A Doll and A Puppet
by Nightweaver Butler
Summary: Alice always loved dolls. She never imagined that she would become one herself.


"Aren't you a lucky one? Engaged to Lord Hamish! How I wish I were you, Lady Alice!" My maid, Violet, chattered about how fortunate I was to be engaged to someone so fine as Hamish. This was understandable. He was handsome, charismatic, accomplished, and the person I hated most in the world. In the 3 months I had known him, I'd found that his charming facade hid a rude, conceited snob of a man. My parents, Lord and Lady Kingsley, had surprised me with news of our engagement at my eighteenth birthday party. What a lovely present.

"Are you ready for bed, my lady?" asked Violet.

"Yes, I suppose so. Though I don't think I'll be sleeping very well tonight."

"Nervous, are you, Lady Alice? I understand. Tomorrow is a very important day."

_Of course it is,_ I thought. _Tomorrow _is_ my wedding day._

Violet helped me into my nightgown and turned down the bedclothes. I crawled into bed and let her tuck me in like she did when I was a child. "Good night, my lady. Sleep well. I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Violet." She blew out the candle on the nightstand and left the room. _Yes, good night, Violet_. _But you won't be seeing me in the morning. Or ever again. I'll miss you. _

Hidden in my wardrobe was a simple commoner's dress I had kept there just for this occasion. I traded my nightgown for this dress and donned my most solid walking shoes. I stuffed a purse of money into the dress pocket and put on a plain woolen coat.

My bedroom was on the first floor, so I had no difficulty in climbing out the window. After I was out, I shut the window to make sure no one got an idea of the direction I was going in.

If I remembered correctly, the Kingsley estate was approximately 3 miles east of London; that is, if you are taking the main road. No, I knew a shortcut that would reduce my traveling distance by more than half. I smiled to myself, pulling the my coat tighter around me. It was early November, and a chill of the approaching winter was in the air as I began to run (or rather walk) away from home.

"Just down that way, miss," said the hunched old man I had asked for directions, pointing toward a narrow ally. "You'll find yourself a decent place to spend the night." I thanked him and went in the direction he had pointed.

The ally was dark and silent and rather gave me the creeps. I half expected a masked thief to jump out of the shadows. I tiptoed along for what seemed like hours, wondering where this decent place to spend the night was.

Eventually, I saw a light up ahead of me and heard a strangely familiar tune playing. I rushed toward it, hoping to find an inn. It was a doll maker's shop. The interior was well lit so I could see right inside. Rows and rows of beautiful dolls sat in the shop, smiling placidly as if to invite outsiders in. It _did_ look rather cozy, and it was so cold out here. The music continued to play louder. I tried the door. It was unlocked.

I entered. The music stopped playing. "Hello," I called. "Is anyone here?" There was no answer.

I turned to examine a shelf of dolls. They stared back at me with glassy eyes. Somehow they didn't look as inviting as they had from outside. I had the feeling that even despite the dolls, I wasn't alone. I waited for a sound. Finally, I heard a voice from behind.

_London Bridge is falling down,_

_Falling down, falling down._

_London Bridge is falling down,_

_My fair lady._

I knew that song. Violet used to sing it to me when I was a child. I turned around.

Before me stood a tall, lean man in the most ridiculous getup. He wore a long, brightly colored coat and a black top hat, out from under which stuck spiky hair. Bright makeup surrounded his eyes like a stage actor's, and there was a little symbol painted on his left cheek. When he moved he did so slowly and woodenly, so he seemed like a giant puppet brought to life.

When the man spoke, his words were just as wooden as his movements. "Welcome, miss. Is there anything in particular that I can help you find?"

"N-no. I was-"

The man leaned in so close to me that our noses were almost touching. He stared directly into my eyes. I wanted to look away, but I somehow could not. I was so surprised by his emotionless eyes that I could not move.

"My, how pretty you are. I could make the most beautiful doll out of you." He reached forward with a gloved hand and took a lock of my hair between his fingers. "This hair, as black as ebony..."

I snapped back to my senses and pulled away from him. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded.

"My apologies, miss. I didn't mean to frighten you. It's a habit of mine to get carried away when I see someone so doll-like as yourself."

"That's a habit you should break."

"Is it a habit of yours to enter closed shops this late at night?'

I didn't know how to respond. "Not to worry, miss. I am always glad to have company. Please, sit. I will make some tea, and I hope you will tell me how you came to be in my shop tonight." He gestured to two chairs in the corner. A cup of tea would be nice...

I sat. He went into the back of the shop and returned with only one cup of tea, which I gratefully accepted. He sat across from me and introduced himself. "I am Drossel Keinz."

"I am Alice Kingsley."

"Yes. And now, Miss Alice, I think to myself, you did not simply happen to be walking past my shop by coincidence. You are here for some other reason."

"Y-yes. I am." I told Drossel that I had been looking for a place to spend the night and was directed down the alley where his shop was. When he asked why I wasn't sleeping at home, I hesitated...and ended up telling him everything. When I came to the part about my engagement, I began to cry.

Drossel was looking at me rather strangely. "I see," he said. "So you are attempting to escape from this arranged marriage?." "Yes.

"Well, Miss Alice, I think to myself that I may be able to offer you a way out of your terrible engagement."

"What?"

"You could stay here with me...if you wanted to."


End file.
